


Trippy Situations

by Torpi



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Beauty - Freeform, Childhood, Fëanorian Week 2021, Gen, Grace - Freeform, Poor Maedhros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 10:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30087735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torpi/pseuds/Torpi
Summary: Maedhros stumbled in the fiery chasm, clutching the regained silmaril. Why did he, though? The answer lies much earlier, in his youth, when Fëanor discovers his eldest son has a small problem....
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23





	Trippy Situations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zimraphel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimraphel/gifts).
  * Inspired by [And in retelling, reshape.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30082878) by [Zimraphel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimraphel/pseuds/Zimraphel). 



> Inspired by Zimraphel’s great fics that keep throwing poor Maedhros in fiery chasms one way or another. I thought this had to have a root. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Fëanáro looks at his eldest son, who looks regal even when he fidgets and has a bandage over his left eye.

‘You are perfect, my son, as any of my children’ he starts proudly, ‘but you do have one small flaw’, he continues, effectively nullifying his earlier statement. Nelyafinwë blinks.

‘You trip’ Fëanáro announces gravely. ‘A lot’, he adds unnecessarily. ‘Last time you went to visit Arafinwë you tripped on him and his wife while they were bathing.’

‘They were in an open-air fountain, Father!’ Maitimo protests. ‘How was I to know-‘

‘That the fountain you'll trip in would also have your uncle and his wife trying to recreate their wedding night?’ 

Maitimo looks repentant at the floor. ‘Yesterday you tripped on Kanafinwë’s music sheets and destroyed his latest composition, his harp and the table. Kanafinwë then destroyed your room. And you methodically destroyed the whole level his room is, or should I say _was_.’

‘Now, I don’t mind the escalation’, Fëanáro says, negligently waving his hand. ‘We can always improve the floor plan. But…last week you tripped and fell face-first in Findekáno’s lap. The way he screamed, the windows almost broke.’ He makes a pause. ‘Did you break anything?’ He asks his son. ‘I don’t want Ñolofinwë harping in my ear again about the danger I put his children in.’

‘I...don’t think so?’ Maitimo replies inquiringly.

‘Did you make sure? Did you actually check? You know that in all experiments you always need to-‘

‘He said he was fine, atya’ Maitimo interrupts his start to a beautiful (and lengthy) explanation on the rules of experimentation. 

‘He would say he is fine if all his bones are broken, as demonstrated when you tripped that one time and accidentally punted him off the mountain’, Fëanáro replies irritated.

‘Oh, that time’, Maitimo says sheepishly. ‘He was fine, really. He crawled by himself halfway up the mountain to assure me of it’, he replies optimistically. 

‘Then, immediately after the lap incident’ Fëanáro continues, ignoring his son, ‘you tried to help him while he got up, an amazing feat considering what you just did to him, I’m quite certain he won’t be having any children, no matter what my _brother_ says, and somehow you both fell. Neither of you could walk straight for two days and you kept wincing and rubbing your backs. How you managed that performance is a mystery.’

‘We rolled off a hill.’

‘You were in the house, Nelyafinwë.’

‘We rolled off the stairs I meant. I-the memory is a bit fuzzy.’

‘Yes, because you both hit your heads so hard you were unconscious for four hours. Tyelkormo found you and thought you had been murdered. I think I should be happy you did not roll off a window, considering you would have fallen the whole height of Túna and I would have had to take you out of Mandos’ Halls.’

Maitimo winces. Fëanáro is unstoppable. ‘Two days before _that_ , you tripped on Findaráto and fell on him. You broke his ribs, an arm and apparently his head because he keeps visiting you now. Asking for your hair.’

‘That’s not my fault, atya!! He’s getting back at me because of-‘ he stops.

Fëanáro’s eyes glitter dangerously. ‘You shall never give him a lock, not even a strand of hair!’ He cries. ‘His sister refused to give me any, and they shall receive none from this family.’

‘Yes, father.’ Maitimo says dutifully. There’s a prolonged pause, punctuated by the sound of heavy objects hitting the walls somewhere further away. ‘Why did you call me?’

‘Findekáno mysteriously found out about your cousin harassing you and came to defend you, as if my son needs defending. They started a song competition in the main hall. Take them out, Mahtan is coming to dinner later. And make sure nobody gets your hair. I know you let Findekáno braid your hair sometimes. Check him for scissors first!’

‘Yes, father.’

‘And don’t trip!’ Fëanáro shouts after his son.

* * *

That would be Fëanáro’s last advice to his son in Beleriand as well. 

  
  
  



End file.
